


A Very Merry Winter Solstice(s) for the Imperial Power Couple

by eschscholzia



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: AU, Acrophobia, Advent Calendar Drabble, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, Angst, Awkward Family Gatherings, Babies, Banter, Carmen AU, Children, Chiss, Christmas Caroling, Coruscant, Crafts, Domestic Fluff, Double Drabble, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender or Sex Swap, Gift Giving, Hopeful Ending, Infertility, Intoxication, Lothal, Mythology References, Naporar, Office Party, Sports Rivalry, Time Skips, copero, thryce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eschscholzia/pseuds/eschscholzia
Summary: A series of twenty-four perfect drabbles and double drabbles featuring Thrawn and Governor Pryce around winter-themed prompts. These are mostly unrelated, unless otherwise noted. Mostly fluff, because even villains need a day off from crushing the Rebellion.





	1. December 1st: Snow

Measured quiet steps fell behind Arihnda. “Did you finally give them the slip?” 

“Yes.” 

She put down the scissors and turned around. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave Thrawn a kiss on the cheek. His impassive face was cool. “I missed you,” she murmured in his ear before going back to her project. 

He nodded in the corner of her eye. 

“What is….” he waved his hand over the table, littered with sniblets of white paper. “...All this?”

“Decorations.” She waved her scissors at him, then thought better of it. “Just because I keep my office plain, doesn’t mean I can’t spruce things up at home.” 

“Ah. And is this a solstice tradition on Lothal, the wasting of paper?” 

She sighed and unfolded the piece she was cutting into. She hadn’t considered it that way. She held it up in all its mangled glory. “They’re snowflakes. It doesn’t snow down here in Capital City, but people hang them in their windows to catch the light.” 

He scooped up a handful of snibbles in his hand, then turned it over and let them fall to the black surface. “If it is a tradition, then I must learn how to make them.”


	2. December 2nd: Dance

Thrawn surveyed the Symphony Hall. A string ensemble played from the mezzanine while the Coruscant elite in their formal wear and Imperial Officers in their dark drab made a stained glass effect below. 

He recognized one particular person. It was Her. She was wearing her favorite red dress. In a moment, she noticed him.

“Good evening, Commodore.”

“Governor.” 

Her hand shook almost imperceptibly as she gestured to couples swirling around the center of the gathering. “Would you care to dance?  _ Do _ Chiss know how to dance?” Her eyebrow quirked.

“Any savage can dance.” He held his arm out. “After you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I fully admit that I stole that line from Jane Austen. This chapter takes place in the universe of my long-format Thryce WIP, in which Imperial racism is a running theme.


	3. December 3rd: Gifts

Thrawn held up the woolly orange bags. “It was considerate of you to think of me.” 

“I knitted the mittens for when you go home to Csilla.” The words tumbled out. 

“We live underground.”

“It’s an anniversary present.” 

“Chiss don’t mark anniversaries of physical relationships.” 

Arihnda’s lips pursed.

He pulled a small box from behind the sofa. “But Hammerly warned me that humans do.” 

Arihnda gasped when she revealed a delicate silver barrette, glinting in the viewport’s starlight. “Is this what I think it is?” 

“I have my sources.”

Was there a hint of a smug gleam in his eye?


	4. December 4th: Flourish

The door chimed. Arihnda squinted in the contrasting warm light and inky shadows made by the last rays of Lothal’s sun through her office windows on the shortest day of the year. 

She pressed the button; the door hissed open. Nobody was there. She looked down the corridor. The Dome was quiet; most people had gone home to prepare for the Lighting with their families. Her toe brushed against something.

She picked up the package wrapped in shiny blue paper with a frizzled bow. A tag, written in fountain pen with an elaborate flourish, read simply, “To my Heart’s Governor.”


	5. December 5th: Sing

Arihnda and Thrawn had just sat down at their small table in their equally small kitchen in their small apartment in Naporar base housing to eat their breakfast. Thrawn was sealed into his uniform already, while Arihnda was still in her housecoat and slippers. No longer military herself, she didn’t see the point. She stabbed at her breakfast meats while Thrawn reviewed the morning’s news. 

A loud racket assaulted her ears. “Did someone bring a herd of lothcats?”

“Oh good, they’re here.” Thrawn wiped his mouth, then set his napkin down. “You won’t want to miss this.” 

Curious, she followed him to their front door, where eight blue Chisslings of various ages were caterwauling. They wore elaborate wreaths of some unfamiliar plant around their necks. She gaped throughout, as her toes froze. When finished, they shouted something in archaic Cheunh that she didn’t quite catch. 

Thrawn clapped, and shook each one’s hand. He reached for a bowl on the hallway sideboard, which was filled with an assortment of hard candies. The kids eagerly grabbed from it, stuffing their pockets in turn. 

“ _ Not too many, you’ll get sick _ ,” he warned, giving a last gentle pat on the head of the smallest.


	6. December 6th: Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is more angsty too. I blame my fellow Thryce Discord members for being bad influences. It ends on a hopeful note, and ties into an unwritten plot bunny of mine.

There. Done. The candlesticks were all laid out just so on the big table in the dining room. 

“Dear! I’m ready for the Lighting,” Arihnda called. 

“And here I am,” Thrawn replied from the doorway. He surveyed the decorations with a smile. 

There was something off, though. His skin seemed ashen, and a lock of his pale blue hair dripped uncharacteristically over his forehead. She laid a hand on his arm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“The First Order destroyed Hosnian Prime today.” 

Her matchbox clattered to the floor. 

“Snoke,” she said. 

“I’m going to find Hammerly,” he replied. “Call in a favor.”


	7. December 7th: Heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: babies

She had to admit: she hadn’t been thrilled about the endeavor from the beginning, but now that she saw the tiny form swaddled in the blanket next to her, it was pretty cute. She blamed the hormones that the midwife had warned her about. Her normally stoic husband didn’t have that excuse for his odd behavior-- cooing in baby talk whenever he cradled their son in his arms. Maybe it was his downy dark hair, or the way he flailed his arms whenever he startled.

“The future Aristocra to the Mitth-Pryce Family in exile,” Thrawn teased. 

Arihnda shook her head. 


	8. December 8th: Quiet

Thrawn sank into the armchair with a sigh. He looked over at Arihnda, who sat curled up on the sofa with her datapad. She tapped her stylus against her lips, lost in thought. 

As if sensing his gaze, she looked up. “It’s good to have some time to ourselves.”

“Yes,” he replied. He willed himself to unclench his fingers from the cushion. Despite changing into civilian clothes and silencing all but one of his communicators, he still felt the weight of his responsibilities. At least they had their pied-à-terre in a quiet sector of Coruscant to escape for a while. 


	9. December 9th: Alone

They paused at the ridgeline to catch their breath. Arihnda had driven forward up the path, mainly because she didn’t want any question of Thrawn beating her. She leaned on her poles, while Thrawn calmly shook the accumulated snow off the toe of his snowshoes. 

The hanging valley spread below them. Patches of gray rock showed amidst the snow. There was nobody on the trail, not even another snowspeeder parked at the trailhead. Arihnda finished her trail mix and looked to Thrawn. 

“Ready to finish our circuit?”

He resettled his goggles over his eyes. “This time I’ll come in first.” 


	10. December 10th: Home

Arihnda didn’t expect it to go this way. Every previous time she’d brought a boyfriend home for New Year’s was a disaster. But somehow, Thrawn was even more popular than she was. He helped wash dishes. He made paper star destroyers for her little cousins. He had charmed even xenophobic Aunt Toydee, sitting with her for an hour while she held forth on her trip to the Genarius spas. As if things couldn’t get worse, now Elainye was showing Thrawn her collected scrapbook of all Arihnda’s primary school drawings. 

What did she expect from someone who played art detective anyhow? 


	11. December 11th: Less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: infertility

Thrawn found her sitting in the dark when he came home. He knew instantly it was bad news.

After she had explained everything, Arihnda searched his face. “Will you think less of me? That I can’t get pregnant?” 

“It was never a certainty; Chiss and humans are only mostly similar. Sometimes genes don’t cross. It just turns out we had an extra headwind.” 

Thrawn held her in her arms while she sobbed into his tunic. Chiss did not cry; they had no tear ducts. But it did not mean his heart didn’t ache for the loss of hypothetical genetic offspring.


	12. December 12th: Toes

It was a cold winter day on Lothal, with a damp wind off the water. Thrawn didn’t seem to mind the cold, but Arihnda did. She warmed her feet on the hearth fender and nursed a toddy. The back door latch hissed; Thrawn had let himself in. 

He took the proffered drink with a swift peck on the cheek. Sinking in the matching wing chair opposite, he sighed. 

“The factory?” She asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes.” 

It had been quite a day. The rebels had struck again at the TIE Defender factory, sabotaging one of the main production lines. Whomever had done it had spray-painted “Happy Solstice from Tumno Nine-Toes,” but it had all the markings of a Spectres raid, down to the painting of Tumno lighting the Solstice candle.

They sat in comfortable-- if frustrated-- silence, staring into the flickering fire. 

“Who is Tumno Nine-Toes?” Thrawn asked, eventually.

Arihnda straightened up. “He’s a fairy tale from a thousand years ago. He was a rabble-rouser, stealing the rich Lothalis’ hard-earned money and giving to the poor. I guess one rotation off wasn’t enough for the Rebellion; they wanted the workers to have a week off while we do repairs.”


	13. December 13th: Dream

Arihnda finished her weekly report to Grand Moff Tarkin. Her blockade was holding, and she had chased the Rebels off Lothal. She allowed herself the luxury of a few moments to relax before beginning the next task. Her mind drifted toward the next visit from the Seventh Fleet. She glanced at her signature on the report to Tarkin. She picked up her stylus and began writing: Arihnda Pryce-Mitth, Arihnda Pryce-Nuruodo. Arihnda Mitth. Which one was his family name? Chiss names were so confusing. Suddenly sheepish, she deleted it with a resolute finger swipe. 

But a girl could dream, couldn’t she?


	14. December 14th: Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone who knows me, knows my love of opera. To celebrate finally convincing my family practitioner to give me antibiotics for my six-week long sinus infection, I switched from listening to _La Traviata_ and _La Boheme_ to _Carmen_. I regret nothing. (also: gender swap)

It was shift change time at the TIE Defender factory. Governor Pryce lingered with the Stormtroopers overseeing the transfer of the nonmilitary personnel back to their compound. She fiddled with the pin of her sidearm; the blaster had been a dud lately. Despite their weariness, the workers still joked with each other, making raucous boasts. The ragged workers were a mixture of species and ages. Looming a full head over most of them was a new person- a man with blue skin. His frayed shirt sleeves revealed sturdy biceps. He paused mid-sentence with a compatriot as his eyes met hers. 


	15. December 15th: Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: fear of heights

“I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” 

Arihnda tried to believe him. Objectively, she knew her boyfriend was stronger than the average human, and had a tight grip on her forearm. Her brain’s irrational portion screamed that she was hanging in the air far above ground. She took a sequence of deep breaths. 

She opened her eyes. “I’m going to try to swing my leg back up. Can you give me a tug?”

She was going to make it off this ropes course, so she could kill Pyrondi when everyone got back to the  _ Chimaera _ . Frizzled team building exercise!


	16. December 16th: Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular request, this links to my chapter for [Day 9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805173/chapters/39755004)

Back at their cabin, Arihnda toasted her feet by the crackling fire. From her comfortable chair, she could see the brilliant oranges and pinks of the sunset out the picture window. 

A slight pressure on her shoulder signified Thrawn’s hand, as he stood next to her watching it. She allowed herself the brief luxury of leaning her cheek against his hand. She turned up to look at him. “I’m going to be so stiff tomorrow. I can already feel it.” 

Thrawn, ever deadpan, belied only by the quirk of his eyebrow, replied, “The way to avoid stiffness is further exercise.”


	17. December 17th: Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Napoleonic Wars AU  
> #sorrynotsorry  
> #ireadtoomuchregencyromance

Arihnda shivered and pulled her shawl closer. The cold wind off the sea whipped her skirts ‘round her stout half boots. 

“‘Tis them!” a young boy cried. The waiting families pressed forward on the dock. The _HMS_ _Chimaera_ sailed majestically into Portsmouth harbor. The sailors lined the rails singing _Heart of Oak,_ even down to little Ollie Zimball, the cabin boy. 

Finally when all was accounted for, the Admiral himself was piped ashore. He brooked no delay but kissed her soundly, crushing her in his arms. 

“Curse old Boney, but I’ve missed you!”

“Happy Christmas,” she whispered against his shoulder. 


	18. December 18th: Sweet

“It smells delicious, what is it?” Thrawn leaned over her shoulder.

Arihnda wafted him a bit of the air above the gently simmering pot of soup. “Soup for the Solstice Meal.” She offered him a taste.

He accepted it silently, rolling it around his mouth. “What is the sweet that I taste?” 

“Pomegranate. It’s for luck in the new year. There are as many recipes as Lothali grandmothers,” she teased. 

“Ah. I have seen those carved over lintels in the city.” He went for another sample. 

“Sszzzt,” she scolded, holding a hand under his spoon. “Drips will stain something terrible.”


	19. December 19: Champagne

Arihnda should have realized something was wrong when Thrawn was more attentive than a secret affair warranted at the Imperial New Year’s celebration. Rather, it was when he began singing “Skies of Might, Land of Plenty” in a midsection-fluttering baritone, that she knew. She helped herself to a cup from the punchbowl.

It was champagne punch, not the usual red fizzy stuff with floating meiloorun slices.

“Who’s responsible for the arrangements?”

“Me?” a hesitant voice replied.

“I should have known it’d be you, Lyste,” she hissed. “Ginger ale is toxic to Chiss.”

She signalled Hammerly with her eyes: _extraction time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I came up with this idea independently, and then while researching whether Lars Mikkelsen is a tenor or a baritone, I found this [clip of him singing _Korobeiniki_](https://youtu.be/zPTEaO0BtTk). I don't actually watch American House of Cards- I'm too loyal to the original version. 
> 
> Other elements of this story tie to into a WIP of mine. The ginger ale idea originated on the Thryce Discord, where we were trying to brainstorm seemingly innocuous beverages that would cause Chiss trouble, and we were in howls of laughter over the idea of Thrawn brought low by a Shirley Temple. The song "Skies of Might, Land of Plenty" also originates in that WIP-universe. In my mind it is played at patriotic events similar to "Land of Hope and Glory" or "God Bless America," but has all the somewhat sinister expansionist undertones of "Die Wacht am Rhein."


	20. December 20th: Slow

The house was finally quiet. The sugar rush had worn off, the children were tucked in bed. The discarded wrapping paper was stuffed in the matter-recycler. Thrawn rejoined Arihnda on the sofa, his face impassive. 

“All taken care of?” she asked.

“Too many cardamom cookies again. Someday he’ll learn.”

She took his hand in hers, and they sat in comfortable silence. After all the build-up to the Solstice, it was good to just be still. Together they watched the end of the Solstice candle until it began to gutter, then finally went out. 

“Joyous New Year,” she whispered. 

He smiled. 


	21. December 21st: Rivalry

Ten minutes until tipoff in the Winter Smashball Classic. Arihnda, Juahir, and Driller were in position in Higher Skies’ box seats. Arihnda waved her green and blue pennant, proclaiming support of Coruscant United. Juahir and Driller had matching CU scarves. 

“I’m terribly sorry, y’all, but I think we’re in the three seats beyond you.” A twenty-something boy and a middle-aged woman stood in the aisle, wearing Coruscant City’s crimson and gold. 

As she stood to let them pass, Arihnda looked right into the red eyes of the apparent third member of their group. Thrawn. 

“Well this is awkward,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post- diner meeting, pre-takedown


	22. December 22nd: Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy angst incoming! I was in a really bad headspace when I wrote this yesterday, so I apologize in advance. For what it's worth, in my scenario they eventually reconciled, but I ran out of words.

Arihnda lay awake at 2:30 A.M. thinking every possible thing she could have said differently, wishing she could do it over.

She spent a week insisting to herself that she was right; Thrawn was always the pig-headed one. 

After two weeks of stubborn refusal to admit fault, and silence from his comm link, her mantra failed her when she realized he wasn’t going to pursue her even if she wanted him to so she could reject his overtures a second time. 

She cried herself to sleep that night, and in the morning swore the weakness would never recur. 


	23. December 23rd: Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This relates to [Chapter 6](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805173/chapters/39643209), after the "Faro and Hammerly's Epic Road-Trip" WIP

Matters this year were a lot different than they were last year. Arihnda looked around the room, basking in the warmth of gathered friends, matched by the warm glow of the candles lining the mantlepiece, windows, and the dining room table. The heroines of the hour, Faro and Hammerly, were explaining their feat in the corner, while Eli tried to make polite conversation with Hammerly’s new boyfriend. The boys had come home with their wives and the grandkids. Thrawn sidestepped a small girl in a party dress and Toydarian wings, and tapped his glass of champagne to get attention. 

“It’s a little strange to be on the good guys’ side this time, even though last time we thought we were the good guys.” There was nervous laughter throughout the room. “But our experiences have taught us that people like the First Order cannot be allowed to spread their message of hate. Instead, I propose two toasts: First, to absent friends!”

The room fell silent. Arihnda took a sip and thought of all those she had lost through the years: their tiny daughter, her parents, people known on Hosnian Prime. 

Thrawn raised his glass a second time, “And finally, to hope!”


	24. December 24th: Family

The shuttle glided lower, following a twisting valley through a jagged snow-capped mountain range. Arihnda tried to calm her own nervous butterflies while simultaneously controlling the twins, who were trying to elbow each other out of the way for a better view.

Thankfully, for Arihnda’s stomach, they soon landed. The fresh air when the shuttle door opened was welcome, even though the cold air made her eyes smart. 

They were met at the edge of the tarmac by Thrawn’s family. Thrass stepped forward and the brothers clenched arms in a contest of wills, staring each other down. Finally they both broke free at the same time in what sounded to Arihnda like a cry of half triumph, half pain. Thrass quirked an eyebrow at Thrawn, who bared his teeth in a sinister smile. 

“Welcome to Copero, little brother.” 

Thrass’s wife stepped forward in a swish of burgundy cloak. Arihnda was prepared for a Chiss handshake, but instead she pressed Arihnda’s hand between both her hands, Coruscant-style. 

“Welcome, sister,” a mild voice said. She pushed back her deep fur-lined hood, revealing gray eyes in a human face. 

Arihnda gasped. 

Thrass’s wife chuckled. “Thrawn didn’t tell you our family was somewhat unconventional?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To mix my fandoms, "[just this once, everyone lives!](https://youtu.be/jhklrve5xmw?t=205)"

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to MsLanna for organizing this and providing my list of prompts!


End file.
